This week you consider new terms for ‘what’s that color?’
Look at fingers. In particular, nails scented with sea foam.
Such a small dream; I invent it more than a several times.
I lure sleep. I bait sleep in with my white throat.
Beside the bay water, I inhale lavendar bath sounds.
Am I awake, or so at ease I am gone with the gulls?
I accidentally, intentionally close my eyes in the spray.
I pretend to be asleep. Then everything happens at once.
I can leave this woman for a time to open blooms.
Per chance there comes a time. Or a pulling tide too.
‘Undertoe’ is a swaddle word for ebb and flow.
Sleep wraps me round in his dim coat;
I am grateful and thankful for his shadow highlighting
periwinkle as a phenomenon, casting pinks and ceruleans
against a sky-blue tincture so full, I begin to billow.
I weep; you leap from your corner and dance.
finely spun material 